


An unexpected Valentine's surprise

by ObsidianButterfly



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Doggy Style, F/M, Fingering, Fluff, Oral, PWP without Porn, Sex Toys, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Valentine - Freeform, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-24 18:16:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9778628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObsidianButterfly/pseuds/ObsidianButterfly
Summary: Another potentially disastrous Valentines day for you, a blind date that goes wrong and Desmond there to save the day, as usual.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry guys, I know I'm a little late with this fic. I had hoped to get it all finished and posted for yesterday-you know-actual Valentine's Day, but things cropped up. I hope you enjoy some fluff with our main animus rider, and all round good guy sweetheart, Desmond.

 

 

The overwhelmingly loud and pounding music was beginning to give you a headache as the night wore on. For a time, you had tried to act nonchalant, casually observing the scores of people dancing, drinking and laughing from your lonely seat perched at the bar, but eventually their merrymaking had also begun to get on your nerves.

Despite the club being in practical darkness, the various flashing lights cut through the artificial smoke pumped from stations around the dancefloor and you could just make out the gyrating bodies of couples displaying a level of affection that should really perhaps be kept behind closed doors.

The longer that you had been left sitting and waiting alone, the less inclined you were to keep watching all those happy people and had retreated to staring down at your now almost-empty glass, twirling the heavy tumbler through your fingers.

You might as well head home; you had concluded that nearly an hour ago, but had stubbornly sat on. It was very clear that your blind date for this evening had stood you up.

Of course maybe there was a completely plausible explanation as to why he couldn't make it; you had initially internally defended. He could be caught up with work, or an emergency could have cropped up; perhaps a family member was ill?

The potential excuses had calmed you for the first hour or so, but with no call and no text to explain it seemed more like that he really just didn't want to meet you.

You shouldn't have been that surprise really, you couldn't even remember his name after all. It’s not as if you had been all that thrilled at the prospect of a blind date, and one on Valentine's day no less, all arranged by your friend who you will certainly not be taking advice from again. All those pitying looks and their vain, desperate, attempts to make themselves feel better by trying to ensure that you were not the sad, lonely friend this Valentine’s day. Yes, set you up with just anyone and then they could go back to being those sickeningly happy couples that could talk endlessly about their relationship without thinking they had to tiptoe around your awkward single status.

Really, they shouldn't have even bothered, you had only agreed to this farce to shut your friends up, more than happy with your current lifestyle.  No doubt they had also pressganged the poor sap who was supposed to spend an uncomfortable night in a dingy club trying to make small-talk with a stranger too. Only he had done the sensible thing and decided to bail. It would have been nice though; if he had bothered to let you know so that you hadn't spent the last two hours watching couples enthusiastically dance and drink their Valentines night away, shooting you pitying looks, and also fending off advances from drunk and or obnoxious men.

Checking your watch for what feels like the twentieth time since you walked in, it's fast approaching midnight so it might be time to accept another failed Valentine’s Day and head home.

'Stood up?' A male voice enquires gently but it still made you flinch. No one had come to sit beside you after your rebuttal of the last few that had tried to engage your attention.

You glance upwards from your empty glass to find the clubs main bartender watching you with what looks unpleasantly like pity. He had mostly served you a few drinks over the last hour, but had mercifully left you alone for the most part. Until now it would seem.

‘None of your business.’ You counter, somewhat angrily and likely fuelled by embarrassment, as you stare down the figure standing behind the bar.

The barman held both hands up defensively. ‘Hey, I didn’t mean anything by it, just checking if you’re ok? You need me to call you a cab or anything?’

‘I’m Fine.’ You huff, a little uncomfortable that another human being was witness to your humiliation.

Turning and picking up a large glass, the barman slid a drink that you hadn’t asked for across the smooth polished surface towards you. It was an alarmingly red-coloured cocktail, served in a tall glass with matching red straw curled in a love heart shape. A pink and white love heart printed umbrella stuck out over the rim and little flakes of glittered sugar stuck to it.

‘I didn’t ask for another drink.’

The barman shrugs offering an easy and non-threatening smile, a slight flash of white teeth in the dim light.

From what you could tell he was fairly nondescript. Average height, average build but with a fairly trim looking physique and dark hair cropped close to his head. He had on a plain white t-shirt and dark denim jeans but you really hadn’t been paying much attention to who had been serving you drinks all night, it might have been the same man, it might not have.

There was a slight smirk across his features as he watched you and you caught the first glimpse of a scar bisecting his upper and lower lip at one corner.

He spoke to you again, although this time tis tone was lighter, more teasing than before when he was checking that you were ok. ‘Call it a gift from me to you. If you had nursed that empty glass any longer the bouncers would likely have escorted you out.’

You glance downwards to the drink sitting on the bar under you find two cherries and a lime wedge making up a smilie face floating at the top. It almost brought a smirk to your lips

He obviously wasn’t trying to be mean; he was probably just trying to be friendly.

‘What, you’re not allowed to sit with an empty glass at all?’ You question playfully. The least you could do was to not take out your current situation on him.

‘Well, when your scowl is scaring all these happy intoxicated customers from consuming more alcohol and thus becoming even more intoxicated and earning the establishment money, then there might be a problem.’

‘Sorry.’ You mumble, swirling the straw around the glass to hear the satisfying chink of ice cubes. God had you really looked that miserable and pathetic? It is definitely time to be heading home, but you continue to talk to the nice barman for a bit.

‘How do you know I didn’t deserve to be stood up? Perhaps I treated him horribly.’

The barman gave your teasing another easy smile. ‘In that case I’m taking my cocktail back.’

‘What is it anyway?’ You ask, fishing a strawberry half from the bottom of the glass with your straw and popping it into your mouth. It tasked sickeningly sweet and very alcoholic from whatever it had been soaking in.

‘Valentines special cocktail; Fruit punch.’

At your questioning look he just shrugged. ‘A little vodka, a little rum, dash of schnapps, four different types of berry liquors, cranberry juice, orange juice, pomegranate juice, grenadine…’

He sounded as if he would go on; continuing to list all the ingredients down to the individual fruits swimming around the bottom of the glass, and it caused you to raise a sceptical eyebrow at him.

He stopped and smirked. ‘What?’

‘You go to Bartending School or whatever just to learn to throw all the ingredients you have into one big bowl?’

‘Oh, I’m beginning to see why you were stood up.’ He joked and it caused a genuine laugh to bubble from your throat. He was at least witty.

You sip your cocktail in silence as the barman wiped down the bar with a towel plucked from over his shoulder; it was still far too sweet a drink.

Within moments your cocktail was nearly spilled by a large man dressed in a suit that was beginning to look a little rumpled by this time of night. He had obviously sampled one too many of the seasonal drinks of offer judging from the reek of alcohol from his person and a few fruit stains down the front of his shirt and tie. The man stumbled up to the bar and leaned heavily on it, almost knocking your drink across you and rudely whistling at your barman friend who had walked away to serve other customers.

‘Sorry.’ He slurred, practically littering you with spittle, in a voice that suggested he was in no way at all sorry, or likely in any kind of control of his current actions or motor functions.

The barman rolled his eyes at you, not at all happy at being whistled at for attention like a dog, before trying to engage the customer, but the drunken man was now unfortunately leaning in your direction, breathing stale alcohol breath on your face.

You discreetly back away in your seat; leaning as far back as you could without falling off.

‘le’ me git you a drink?’

‘I’m ok thanks.’ You state firmly, taking a small sip of your still nearly full cocktail glass.

The drunken man ignored you as if you hadn’t just refused.

‘Sure ye want one.’ He hiccupped and with that he asked the barman for two of the very same cocktail that you had just received.

Behind the bar your new friend gave you a sympathetic look and a wary glare at the intruder.

‘I don’t think she wanted one buddy, how bout just the one for you, maybe a glass of water, eh.’

It was clear that the barman wasn’t going to get through to this one by being jovial or easy going, as the drunken man proceeded to ignore his suggestion and continued to harass you.

‘Come on, ah know ye want one.’

You fought not to sneer at him and keep your tone neutral. ‘I really don’t.’

‘Pfft, you’re not gonna get a man like that.’

Wasn’t he a charmer? ‘I’m ok with that.’

Suddenly his hands were on your shoulders and waist and you nearly topped from the chair from the weight of his larger body leaning against you.

Her practically snarled at you. ‘Don’t be a bitch.’

‘Get off of me.’ You state very loudly but found it muffled by his larger body practically leaning all his weight on you.

‘Hey come on, pal. She’s not interested.’ The barman tried to intervene, reaching over the bar to pull the drunks arm off of you, but his helpful protest was met by a loud, swearing filled, rant as the drunken man abandoned you to turn and yell at him.

With a discreet wave of his hand to the side of the bar, two rather large and burly men dressed all in black who were clearly club security, materialised beside the troublemaker and very swiftly escorted him out to, surprisingly, more angry protest. If you had been faced with the death glares of those two mountains of meat you would have likely gone very quietly. With a bit of luck maybe the obnoxious loud mouth would get a punch from one of them, might learn to keep his hands off of unwilling women.

‘What a prick.’ You hear the barman mutter under his breath, before giving you another small supportive smile and disappearing down towards the opposite end of the room to serve some other customers.

 

 

 

 

 

 

‘Hey, you fancy doing me a little favour?’

You recognised the barman’s voice this time and glance up from your handbag to find him opposite you again. You had finished you free cocktail and had been gathering your things in order to leave.

‘Depends.’ You reply, suspiciously, but he was giving you that easy smile again.

‘My shift finishes in fifteen minutes.’

‘Ok…’ You murmur, wondering exactly what that had to do with you.

‘And, eh, my friend is having this party, a Valentines part you know? It’s at his apartment, lots of people, free booze, some food…’

You didn’t like where this was going.

‘…and, well, he invited me, but I really don’t want to go and play third wheel to all these loved up morons, this is like the third year that I will be turning up single, and well…’

He trailed off and was looking at you with a rather hopeful puppy expression.

There was a few moments awkward silence as your brain processed what he had just said. ‘You want ME to go with you?’ You eventually stutter, incredulously.

‘Not like a date or anything if you don’t want, but yeah. I’m happy to return the favour any time you like, I can put on a fancy suit-‘ He was grinning again, clearly teasing you, ‘-I scrub up well for weddings and christenings. Hey, even if you just want to piss off Mom and Dad sometime and you want me to turn up to an important family gathering, drink beer and tell them your new boyfriend is a high school drop-out barman, whose hobbies are truck racing and gambling. We can even tell them were getting hitched in Vegas.’

You laugh despite yourself; he was at least funny and surprisingly sweet for a twenty something single man working in loud, busy, nightclubs.

‘What do you say? Free booze and food? I promise to be a perfect gentleman and see you home and everything. Scouts honour.’ He gave you a little salute and that hopeful puppy expression was back in those dark brown eyes.

Did you really have anything better to do with your night? The answer was clearly a big fat no, but did you really want to go to yet another Valentines party with a man that you just met and really didn’t know all that well and watch more couples full of the joys of love? The answer to that was maybe, he seemed genuinely nice and at least there was free food and drink, but your response was more wary.

‘We literally just met, you really expect me to go to some strangers party with another stranger?’

That seemed to give the barman pause as he mulled over your hesitation for a moment before sticking his hand out across the bar, there was a little black leather and bead bracelet tied around his wrist, worn and frayed it gave off an aura of being handmade. There was also an intricate pattern of black tattoos, one of these tribal or geometric designed sleeves running up the full length of his arm to disappear into the sleeve of his t-shirt.

‘Desmond Miles.’ He offered.

With an inevitable sigh of your own bad decisions likely coming back to haunt you, you reach out to shake the proffered hand. His touch was warm, solid, no manly squeezing of your fingers or awkward, unsure, limp wrist.

You agreed to meet him outside once he had gathered up his things.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The party, it turned out, was within easy walking distance of your current location. Desmond joked that it meant you didn’t have to get in a car or taxi with a potential serial killer, and he promised that he wouldn’t lead you down any dark alleys. You offered a gentle punch to his arm at his mocking teasing which he took in good humour.

He was clearly easy going, and chatty, and certainly had a lot of slightly awkward charm.

Desmond had pulled on a light-grey hooded sweatshirt over his t-shirt, and now that he was out from behind the bar you could see that he wore dark coloured trainers. He was dressed very casual and you were now even more aware that you had made a vain effort to glam yourself up for your potential ‘blind date’ this evening. It meant that now you felt self-consciously over-dressed despite his assurances that you looked fine and that no one would even notice.

During the short walk, he talked a little about himself and asked you some general ice-breaking questions, carefully staying away from the sensitive subject of your disastrous blind date.

You both decided it was best to keep things simple for tonight, that you wouldn’t try and lie to the partygoers by suggesting that you were a proper couple in a long term relationship. You would both stick to what essentially had happened; you met in a bar while Desmond was working. You just wouldn’t be offering the information that it was this very night you happened to meet and were doing this more out of single-at-Valentines-Day comradeship than anything else.

Your blind date might have went abysmally, you muse, but at least you might get to help Desmond sock it to his friends who were always complaining that he too was forever single, and endlessly trying to set him up with many of their female friends, whether he was interested or not.

Stepping out of the lift into an average, but fairly well kept high-rise apartment complex, you could unfortunately hear music playing from all the way down the hall. You had the sinking feeling that you were both heading in the direction of that noise.

Desmond groaned but kept walking, digging out few bottles of something and some snacks as offerings to your hosts from a black rucksack that had been slung over his shoulder. He paused at the door while you waited patiently for him to knock, wondering all of a sudden, why you had just bloody agreed to this. At least your barman friend wasn’t awful company, at another other time you might actually enjoy an evening out with him. If he had turned up as your date you might even have had a thoroughly pleasant evening.

After a few heartbeats with nothing but thumping music filling the corridor, the front door of the flat shuddered and suddenly flew open. A man and woman stumbled out from within, almost colliding with poor Desmond who was just about to knock. The pair trotted off down the hallway clutching one another laughing and giggling, and barely sparing a backwards glance or an apology for nearly knocking both of you over.

The momentary increase in music volume from the open door was soon droned to a dimmed beat again as it swung closed in the wake of the drunken couple, leaving you and Desmond smirking at one another.

Desmond made a low, disgusted, noise in his throat and shot you an almost pained look.

‘You really want to go in?’ He asked, tone quite evident that he was having second thoughts.

You shrug without comment, this was his idea and his friends, you had just tagged along.

Rolling his shoulders wearily, Desmond let out a deep sight. ‘I’m not in the mood. Pretty much had my fill of drunken people for tonight.’

‘That include me?’ You jibe; he had been the one to talk you into this after all.

‘Hey, I haven’t had to carry you down the street yet and you haven’t vomited on my trainers so my nights looking up.’ He joked.

He turned to face you, gentle smile back in place. ‘There a nice pizza place round the corner that’s open all night. You fancy getting something to eat instead of this?’ Desmond asked, jabbing a thumb at the door where the party carried on in full swing.

At least your new found friend didn’t seem as much in the mood for all of tonight’s nauseating over-commercialised festivities, much like yourself. You should probably head home however, but pizza did sound really, really good though. The mere mention of food had your stomach suddenly let out a low gurgling agreement and the realisation hit you that you hadn’t eaten tonight.

Desmond laughed at the noise while you glanced away embarrassedly. ‘I’ll take that as a yes then. Come on, let’s get out of here.’

Tucking the items back into his rucksack, you both headed back the way you came, taking the lift down to the main foyer and back out into the cool night air.

 

 

 

 

 

 

There were a number of street sellers hanging around pavement near the pizza place, clutching armfuls of teddy bears and flowers, all wrapped in pink and red ribbons.

You walked by, ignoring them, but were forced to glance back as you arrived at the restaurant door and realised that Desmond wasn’t beside you.

He caught up with a brisk walk and you noticed he was clutching something in his hand. As he reached to open the door for you he held out the item for you to take; it was a single rose folded from red and green paper. It looked quite authentic, almost real, until you looked closer and noticed the texture was a little off.

The flower was wrapped in a small square of cellophane and tied with a red bow.

Your surprised look was met with a small sheepish smile and a shrug of his shoulders.

‘Well it IS Valentine’s Day after all.’ He muttered, sounding suddenly unsure and perhaps a little embarrassed at the slightly corny gift.

Glancing at your watch it was technically the 15th now, and you also technically weren’t even his Valentine, but you thanked him anyway; it was a sweet gesture.

You both ordered your pizza and found a seat, the shop was fairly quite at this late hour, with a few who looked probably like regulars, some kids enjoying their pizza and chatting loudly to one another using it as a place to hang out, and probably a few older or homeless people looking for somewhere to stay warm, dotted around the place.

A bored looking waitress took your order and gave you a false sympathetic look and a rather nasty side eye to Desmond. No doubt she saw you standing dressed smartly, clutching your paper flower and then noticed Desmond accompanying you in jeans and a hoodie. She probably thought this was your date, who had put zero effort in and were now eating pizza late at night in a run-down restaurant.

She was probably being really judgemental and jumping to conclusions that Desmond was your layabout boyfriend but little did she know this was actually probably one of the better Valentines Day’s that you had had.

As you and Desmond slide into a booth to await your food, he surprises you again by pulling a piece of paper out from his bag, sliding it across the table towards you with an amused smirk.

‘What’s this?’ You ask, as you pick it up and begin skimming over the front.

The plain white paper was clearly an average piece of A4 with what looked suspiciously like the logo of the club that you had just been to on the back. What was most surprising was a large love heart had been drawn with a red pen with the words HAPPY VALENTINES DAY printed in an even hand. Smaller heart shapes had been coloured in surrounding it.

‘Since it was Valentines and I was technically taking you out somewhere I thought I better at least write you a card. No shops open at this time night though, I had to improvise.’

You laugh, smiling warmly at him, unbelieving that he cared enough or went to that much effort, even in humour, for someone he really didn’t know. You hoped he wasn’t just playing the sympathy card after seeing you sitting forlornly in the club earlier.

‘Thanks, Desmond.’

Flowers, a card and pizza, plus the added bonus of a guy not drunk or drooling over you or even trying to get you naked. Today was probably high on the list of Valentines days that didn’t suck. He was cute, and seemed like a fairly nice guy. He didn’t have to go to that effort but was playing a good part on this day.

 

Over fresh, warm, pizza and something non-alcoholic, Desmond explained how he got the scar on his mouth and regaled you with tales about growing up in the middle of nowhere and his overtly uptight father. He also didn’t seem to mind when you went on a rather long winded rant about your awfully set up blind date and your unsympathetic friends who make you go through this.

He was engaging, and chatty, and far too late you realised you actually really liked him and were becoming far to invested in this night being an actual date as the pair of you turned happy chatter to shameless flirting.

 

 

 

 

 

 

After what seemed like hours, you and Desmond decided that it was becoming very late and the pair of you should call it a night.

He insisted on walking you outside to try and hail a taxi to take you home, he also insisted that he lived close enough that he would be fine walking home by himself, no matter how much protest you put up at that notion.

As the flagged taxi pulled over, Desmond zipped up his hoodie and pulled the hood up to ward off the early morning cold, digging his hands into his jeans pockets. He made sure that you had all your things, including the cute little rose, before you moved to climb into the back of the car.

There was the slightest hesitant pause as he jerked forward, perhaps it was a kiss on the cheek he was aiming for, or maybe it was a hug, but he settled for stretching out his hand awkwardly to shake yours.

‘I work most nights at the club. If you ever come in just ask for Desmond and someone will find me if you can’t, that’s if you want to, uh, or um, maybe ever want to do this again. It was nice. I had fun.’

‘Me too, thanks.’

‘Maybe we can make a proper date out of it instead of this pink heart filled monstrosity of an evening.’ He suggested with what you hoped was an optimistic lilt.

Well it wouldn’t be so bad to have an actual date with him, one where you hadn’t spent the night sitting alone for most of it.

As you climbed into the back of the warm and comforting taxi you experienced a sudden pang of loss as he turned to leave. You can just make out his shoulders covered in light grey hoodie wandering down the street in the dark away from you.

Your night had started off unpleasant but meeting your new barman friend had changed all that. He was an attractive man. An attractive single man that was more than happy to organise a future date with you.

Did you really want to head home, alone, or chance backing out of another interesting encounter with him, or should you perhaps see if the two of you were more compatible in other ways?

 

'Hey Desmond!' You call out, steeling your nerve as you open the back door of the taxi before it gets a chance to pull away.

You hear the faint footsteps of his trainers pounding the pavement as the man in question jogs back to where he had left you. He hadn’t gotten very far up the road in the few moments it had taken you to make up your mind that you would really, really like to see if this man had some other qualities you would be interested in.

There is a flash of white and denim as Desmond leans into the back of the car, searching the darkness for you huddled in the corner carefully clutching your handbag and paper rose.

'You alright?' He asks with concern and a little out of breath from running back.

'You, uh, want to come to mine for some coffee?'

He was a modern man; he would surely know what you were offering him. It was kind of hard to come out and say it with the driver up front patiently waiting while the fair ticked onwards.

A small smirk tugged the scar across his lips but there was still a surprised eyebrow raised in your direction.

'I would love to. Are you sure?'

You nod quickly under his intense chocolatey gaze, feeling altogether too self-conscious. 'Climb in.'

Without hesitation Desmond tugs his bag from across his shoulders and slides into the dark interior of the taxi beside you. Placing his bag at his feet, he glanced furtively over in your direction as the taxi sped away from the kerb after you gave the driver your address.

Passing streetlights only slightly illuminated the back of the car, but you could still see Desmond’s increasingly more self-satisfied smirk in your direction.

After a few moments false propriety he inched closer, jeans rustling over the leather seat.

Slowly, carefully, he placed a hand on your knee, just resting it lightly on the bare skin there where your dress had ridden up, his thumb tracing small circles across your flesh.

For a time he was content to sit there and watch the buildings pass out of the window, a silent acknowledgement that he knew what was going on. He let you decide whether you were happy for him to continue and want more, or had changed your mind.

All you could now think about was those large warm hands on your body and the fact you had probably made the best decision of the night inviting him back to yours. The steady swipe of his thumb sent shivers up your thighs and lodged firmly between your legs. You shifted uncomfortably, encouraging more, edging closer to him and in the process and drawing his attention.

Desmond decided to push his luck a little further. Abandoning your knee, his hand casually inched a little higher, fingers curling around your thigh and offering a slight squeeze and it was all you could do to stifle the small groan of pleasure at his touch, body tense and desperate for just a little more, just a little higher and he would be in the right place.

He presses his clothed thigh against your bare one, the full side of his body snug along the line of yours and cuddles close.

Out the corner of your eye you glimpse the taxi driver in the mirror, he was too focused on the road ahead, oblivious, or perhaps uncaring, as to what was happening in the back. No doubt the man had probably seen a lot worse from couples who climbed into his vehicle for a ride. You were not drunk, or loud or aggressive, and you were not exactly being wholly inappropriate.

Well, maybe just a little inappropriate.

Slowly Desmond leaned his body across the seat, cupping your chin with his palm. He was suddenly too close, filling your vision and seemed much broader in shoulder that he had appeared while you stood beside him on the street.

Thick fingers gently threaded through your hair and his thumb traced the same intricate pattern across your jaw that he had your thigh. He leaned forwards, tugging your head at a slightly better angle to reach your lips. He left his grip loose, he didn’t drag you towards him, he encouraged, and he led, allowing you to back out of you wanted to.

You could feel the warmth of his breath first against your lips and you parted yours in anticipation, closing your eyes as he drew ever nearer for that first kiss.

Desmond hovered a few moments, building tension low in your gut before closing that small gap.

You sighed at his touch and he inhaled deeply. His lips were soft against yours, any tension in your posture ebbing away from the caress of his mouth as you melted against him. The scar on his lips pressed against your skin, rough where his hips were smooth, offering that little extra tactile sensation.

He seemed quite happy to kiss you for eternity, taking his sweet time exploring your mouth leisurely, tongue probing along the line of yours.

Desmond’s hand dropped from its hold on your chin, caressing down your arm to grip your waist where he kneaded gently. A shiver running up your spin gave him the opening to tug you closer, body pressing against his, your breast crushed against his chest.

You whimpered against his mouth, low groans of pleasure forced from low in your throat. It was hard to breathe, mouth happily preoccupied, and when you inhaled deeply through your nose your sense were filled with the sweet pungent scent of his aftershave.

His wandering hand dropped to your knee again before sliding a little higher up your thigh than before, he was so close to touching just where you needed, where your body was beginning to crave for touch. Desmond gave a sharp squeeze to the inside of your thighs and you gasp causing him to grin against your mouth.

Eventually you pulled away slowly, desperate for air and overwhelmed by the touch and scent of his body. Your eyelids flutter open to find Desmond doing the same. Your vision was hazy, still surrounded by darkness and the intoxicating taste of him still on your lips.

He smirked at you in return, lips pink tinged from kisses and you were too lost in him to realise that someone else was trying to speak. You both turn to find the driver demanding his fair, realising too late that you completely missed the arrival at your destination, too wrapped up in each other.

Desmond cleared his throat loudly and you can feel heat rising to your cheeks in embarrassment at your situation, caught making out like two naughty teenagers.

The driver rolled his eyes, you could see his expression dimly in the rear-view mirror, but at least he didn’t seem overtly put out, probably just fed up of dealing with loved-up idiots on this night every year.

Desmond chuckled, drawing you towards him for another surprise kiss as he forced a handful of money from his pocket in the driver’s direction, dragging you out the taxi after him. It was an awkward fumble of limbs and bumping of heads as he seemed reluctant to stop kissing you long enough to extract yourself successfully from the vehicle.

Strong arms encircled your waist as you were tugged closer to his larger body to continue the sensual exploration of your mouth. He nipped playfully at your bottom lip with his teeth, soothing his actions quickly with his tongue.

You need to move, your brain was demanding, you need to get inside and get some of his clothing off. Your palms are itching to have bare skin underneath and you can feel your underwear begin to stick to you from your own arousal.

Carefully, you begin walking Desmond backwards off of the street and towards your front door.

He relents with a chuckle as walking and kissing doesn't quite work and a few stumbles nearly threated to have you both sprawled face-first on the pavement.

Fishing your keys out of your bag and fitting them into the lock proved to be a difficult job one handed, as Desmond decided to happily pin you against the door and grind his body against yours, assaulting your neck with little love bites for good measure.

Reaching wildly behind you, you try to fumble the door open again but the wandering path of his lips and hands are making it very difficult to focus enough willpower on completing that one simple task.

'Desmond!' You try and prise away for a few moments between frenzied kisses. 'A little help here.' You mutter against his mouth as he continues his distraction. 

He pauses for a moment and you take a deep, steadying breath, turning your attention to the door in desperate effort to get it open, but Desmond clearly has other ideas.

A low chuckle reverberated through his chest as he pressed himself against your back, pinning you facing the door. As you frustratingly fight with the stubborn lock his lips trail a distracting path along your neck and shoulder, hands wandering to your hips, squeezing and rubbing.

He nips playfully at your earlobe with his teeth, shifting his thigh between your legs to rub more of his body against yours. 

Placing your forehead against the cool wood of the door you give a little whine of want as you feel the hard, solid seem of his jeans dig against your backside. His arousal grinds the coarse fabric against you, and you are painfully aware of only a few superfluous layers of clothing are separating your from all that hard velvety skin. His breath, hot and heavy against your neck, is leaving your knees weak and distracting you further from your task.

Why couldn’t you just have sex right here? You couldn’t come up with a valid excuse why not right at this minute.

‘Did you want to fuck me all night?’ Desmond purred in your ear, hips grinding against your arse, and you find yourself discreetly parting your legs so that he can press deeper against you, forcing your own underwear to scrape against your increasingly stimulated clit.

His hand covers yours, helping you slot the key into the lock and the symbolism isn’t lost on you.

‘I actually only made my mind up in the taxi.’ You whimper as his free hand cups your breast and kneads gently.

With a final jiggle of your keys, the door swings violently inwards and the two of you nearly fall through it were it not for Desmond firm grip on you as he quickly snatched at the doorway to keep the pair of you upright.

Now that the pesky task of getting inside has been resolved, he resumes to entwine you in his arms and continues kissing.

The door is haphazardly kicked closed as you fumble down the hallway, mouth and hands wandering where they please.

Desmond pins you against any solid surface he can find, using his taller leverage against you while you only agree and comply and pant for more.

Unzipping his hoodie, the offending garment is quickly discarded on the floor; shoes are haphazardly toed off leaving a trail of discarded clothing on route to the bedroom.

You practically drag Desmond through your bedroom door by his shirt; all the while he gives you a little infuriatingly sexy grin. You slipped your hands under his t-shirt, fingers brushing against the incredibly warm skin of his stomach and sides. With a brief pause to let you explore he eventually pulls away, grabbing his shirt and tugging it up and over his head and letting it drop to the floor.

You are treated to a distinctly tanned and well defined torso, and can't help reaching out to run your palms over his shoulders and down across his pectoral muscles. They were surprisingly smooth.

'Do you shave everywhere?' You tease as your hands wander lower to unclipped the belt buckle at his jeans.

'Keep taking more clothing off and you might find out.' He smirks in return pulling you closer for another toe-curlingly good kiss and wrapping you in all that warm, muscled body.

Finally fighting the buckle open between distractions, Desmond sharply tugs his belt loose from the loops of his jeans and discards it on the floor with the same impatience as the t-shirt. Naked form the waist up, he pushes you eagerly towards the bed while you are busy working on the rest of his clothing. Desmond eases you carefully back onto it and follows you down to cover your body with his.

He feels right and solid above you, gently crushing you into the soft mattress with his weight. His thigh slips between your legs, cradling your lower body against his and you instinctively rut against him, body desperate for some sort of friction or stimulation.

You needed to be naked and he needed to be inside of you. Soon.

Desmond's mouth covers yours just as expertly as his body, drawing small moans of pleasure from his kisses and an increasing urgency for attention between your legs.

Bodies tight together, your writhing under him causes your dress to ride up and Desmond's hand is quick to wander up your exposed thigh, fingers trailing lightly to raise goosebumps over your skin.  With no thought to tormenting you some more he cups your groin, palm large and warm and solid against your sex and you moan for him, letting him know that you need more.

Fingers slip confidently into the waistband of your underwear and creep downwards, the rough pads of his fingers skim across the hood of your clit and has your hips arching upwards, seeking, begging, for more of his caress. He doesn't hold out, fingers dipping through the positively dripping folds of your pussy just as his tongue dips into your mouth. They seek, and probe, leaving you panting against his mouth, legs falling open wider and hips arching wildly upwards demanding just a little more pressure.

Desmond’s thumb scrapes against the hood of your clit, rubbing the sensitive nub in slow, easy circles and it feels wonderful. Your back and hip arch, fingers digging into the firm muscles of his biceps in an effort to keep you anchored.

Dipping a sudden finger inside of you draws a sharp hiss of pleasure and a loud intake of breath from him.

'You feel amazing.' He breathes deeply in your ear as he carefully inserts a second, and you can't help bucking your hips, pumping those fingers into your body.

Desmond pulls back from kissing you licking his lips, eyes glinting in mischief.

'You mind if I...' He indicates downwards but you stare at him blankly, all reasonable thought disappearing to be replaced with nothing but mind-fuzzing pleasure.

'You don't mind oral?' He clarifies, and you whet your lips briefly savouring the thought of that tongue-that was so dexterous in your mouth-in more intimate places.

'Are you seriously asking that?'

Chuckling, he mutters, 'True, you don't get many noes when you’re offering that.'

Raising up off of you for a moment Desmond helps you wiggle out of your dress, taking his time for a few wandering caresses of your freshly exposed body and to appreciate the first full reveal of you in your underwear. His gaze is heavy, sexual. In his mind he’s already got you naked and has probably envisioned several positions to fuck you in.

'Unhook the bra' He orders, voice husky.

His own arousal must be maddening, trapped and straining against his jeans, but he waits patiently for you to reach behind and loosen your bra before tenderly pushing you back against the pillows.

Hooking a finger into the front of the loosened fabric, Desmond tugs it away, letting your breasts fall free. With a small smile and a final deep, probing, kiss he begins his slow meander down your body, pausing to kiss, playfully nip, or suckle any sensitive spots that draw the best and loudest reaction from you.

Lingering at your breasts, he offers them prolonged attention, gently nuzzling the heavier flesh before rolling your peaking nipples into his mouth.

Your fingers scratch at his skull, his hair too short to grab handfuls of to hold him against you enjoying his tongue lapping at the sensitive peaks.

Eventually abandoning your breasts, Desmond's kisses descend across your stomach and abdomen, hovering just before your public mound until your body is silently begging for him to keep going by writhing underneath him.

His breath feels hot against your wet sex even through the thin fabric of your knickers. Licking his lips, and rolling those dark eyes up to watch your reaction; Desmond slips his fingers into the waistband of your underwear and tugs downwards, rolling the fabric down your thighs and calves.

You are forced to raise your hips to help, savouring the fleeting caress of warm palms across your bare skin. You are already panting for him, breath laboured, and you squirm as the cooler air caresses your now bare, and desperately wet, pussy.

Desmond ensures your legs are parted wide enough for him to accommodate broad shoulders and he settles on the bed on his stomach, covering your lower body. Hands curl around your hips keeping you anchored in place while his luscious mouth covers your labia with confidence.

Moaning uncontrollably, you buck against the feel of his tongue caressing you intimately, dipping inside of your body briefly before circling your clit with slow, sensual flicks.

He seems in no hurry, happily lapping at you, offering sustained and prolonged pressure against your clit for what could have been minutes or hours; you had no idea. ?your vocabulary was reduced to soft gasps and heavy breaths, encouraging more but body constantly fighting to wiggle away from so much stimulation.

Your orgasm washes over you in rippling waves of pleasure, spasming every muscle south of your belly button and nearly clamping your thighs shut tight around his ears.

If he didn’t look smug before, he definitely did now, as Desmond emerges from between your legs, pupils dark and dilated and mouth wet from your body. He covers, you, offering you a taste of yourself by a quick probing kiss.

You respond eagerly, sucking on his tongue and pushing hard against him, letting him know you fully appreciated the effort.

Only partly sated, you still have an urge to move on, to have him inside of you, his hips bucking against yours and legs wrapped around his waist.

Your fingers fumble at the buttons on his jeans. Still shaking after your intense orgasm, all you need now if for him to fuck you.

Desmond raises his body up off of yours briefly to help and you fight with the tight denim fabric stretched across his groin, but eventually manage to loosen it enough to being pushing it down. You get a glimpse of dark boxers, possibly black, but eagerly push those down too eager for him to be just as naked as you.

Wrapping your hand around his length you enjoy the sharp little intake of breath he makes at your unexpected touch, and begin gently stroking upwards as he remains in a push up position on the bed above you.

You are amused to find his neither regions as bare as his chest and he smirks at you as you raise your eyebrow at him.

'Got your answer then?' He teases as he kicks off the last of his clothing.

Running your fingertips along the velvety shaft, you make your mind up that every man should shave down there. It let you stroke the smooth skin of his balls and grip the base of his shaft tightly without fear or tugging on any unfortunate hairs.

Curling your fist around his erection you gently pump a few times, enjoying the low moan of pleasure from Desmond and the increasingly wild buck of his hips.

'I can return the favour…' You offer, feeling generous after the amazing orgasm his talented mouth provided.

With a low chuckle Desmond leans down to kiss you again, at length, leaving you distracted and breathless.

'Normally I'm not one to refuse such a generous and amazingly tempting offer. Feel free later on by all means, but I really want to fuck you right now.' He states plainly with a wry grin.

'Totally ok with me.' You agree, wanting nothing more than that surprisingly athletic body pressed tightly against you and your legs wrapped around his waist as he takes you as roughly as he liked.

Grabbing both your hands to intertwine his fingers with yours, Desmond pins your arms gently above your head, offering long languorous kisses while you writhe against him.

'So you have any condoms?' He asks innocently and the dawning realisation that no you did not gives you pause. 

You hadn't planned any of this for this evening and we're pretty sure that you had none.

Well fuck, this was not good. You had no desire whatsoever to stop what you were doing. Were you willing to risk potential pregnancy and or a sti? Normally the answer would be a firm no, but right at this moment with your body still tingling from your last orgasm and his incredible naked body riding yours, it was making rational thought hazy. You could deal with problem later.

‘I don’t think so.’ You confess and you catch an almost pains look in his eyes.

‘Shit.’

‘Yeah.’ You agree.

‘I have nothing on me.’ He sighs deeply.

‘Please, Desmond.  Just do it. Now. Please.' You encourage, drawing his body closer to yours. The velvety head of his cock nudged your clit and his hips buck automatically, seeking more friction. The teasing is agony as his cock bumps your swollen, stimulated, clit.  You need him inside of you, his hips pushing all that hard length into you hard and fast.

Eyes closed, Desmond is lost in the moment as he kisses you, tongue gently probing into your mouth. Lean hips continue to buck and push against yours, and you can see the slight quiver in the muscles of his arms from effort of going slow and holding his upper body off of yours.

He groans lowly, resting his forehead against your as he purposely moves his hips away from doing just what you were demanding.

'Fuck.' He whispers.

Your hands slide to his waist trying to encourage him closer again.

'Fuck me Desmond, please!'

He shakes his head resignedly, eyes squeezed shut. 'You say that now, but it won't look so easy tomorrow.'

His chest heaves from heavy breathing as carefully rolls off of you to lie on the bed at your side.

'We really should take precautions.' He offers, clearly as perturbed as you. 'There's has to be an all-night pharmacy around he somewhere.'

'Possibly, quite a few streets away I think though.' You sigh, incredibly frustrated. 

'Won't take me long to find it.'

He didn’t sound remarkably hopeful.

'Unless...'

Practically hanging off of the edge of the bed you start carelessly emptying the drawers of your bedside table. There has to be, NEEDs to be something here, surely.

After several frantic minutes of searching you luckily stumble upon a long forgotten prize. Plucking the small, open box out of the drawer you wave it triumphantly in Desmond’s direction, happy that the gentle rattle inside at least confirmed there was something left.

Thankfully there is a small handful of the shiny packages left and you fight back a self-satisfied grin as Desmond removes one and carefully tears the foil wrapper.

You watch him, eagerly, rolling the condom down his length and ensuring that it was secure and air-bubble free.

Desmond moves to kneel on the bed and you practically make a grab for him, desperate to pull him down across your body but he evades you, leaning over the edge of the bed.

Propping yourself up on your elbows you crane your neck, struggling to see what he was up to.

‘What are you doing?’ you ask, puzzled.

His voice is muffled, ‘I thought I saw…’

You can hear him rummaging through all the discarded items that you had haphazardly thrown from your bedside table in search of the elusive condoms.

After several minutes Desmond appears triumphant, amused smirk in place as he clutches a small purple-coloured vibrator in one hand. He wiggles his eyebrows playfully and you roll your eyes.

His brow furrows as he examines it, clearly trying to figure out how it worked, but within a few moments you soon hear the gentle buzzing of your toy switched on.

Desmond pressed his fingertip to the top of the vibrator and after that against the tip of his nose. He carefully places it against the shaft of his erect cock and pulls back quickly with a slightly laugh. ‘It tickles.’

'What are you doing with it?’

‘I thought you might like to use it.’ He states, drawing you up onto your knees beside him to offer eager kisses.

Desmond coaxes you down onto your hands and knees, placing himself in an advantageous position behind you.

Biting your lip, you glance over your shoulder at him as he edges closer. Desmond hands you your vibrator, freeing his hands to grip your hips firmly. He positions himself between your legs and teases you briefly with his cock, running himself through the channel of wetness between your legs.

You thighs shake with need; you need something more than this. You grip the vibrator almost painfully hard in your hand as Desmond leisurely sinks his cock into you in one long, fluid motion, using his hips to drive himself forwards and his grasp on your hips to drag you back onto him.

Your head bows, spine curling from the sensation as you let out a deep, satisfying moan at being so wonderfully filled.

He moves steadily to begin with, slow, precise, timing his thrusts into your eager body with constant pace. You find that you can’t possibly hold yourself up on your arms and drop further down onto the bed onto your elbows; face pressed against the pillows as he forces small, encouraging, groans from low in your throat

You had almost forgotten about your toy with the heady sensations from Desmond’s body, but gripping the base of it in one hand, you ease the buzzing vibrator between your legs to press lightly against the hood of your clit and it instantly doubles your pleasure.

‘Christ I can feel that.’ Desmond hisses from behind you and his hips lose their rhythm, thrusting against you wildly, excitedly.

Each thrust from him is punctuated with a sharp gasp from you, the vibrator pushing you towards orgasm, constricting your inner muscles around the thick shaft embedded deeply inside of you.

You drop the vibrator to the bedspread, unable to take any more stimulation but it’s too late, the tight spasm of orgasm gripping you and raking your body, stealing all the air from your lungs and clenching your fists against the sheets.

He must have felt it, Desmond panting and groaning behind you but he is not long in finishing. Sweat trickles down your spine, your head feels fuzzy and a wave of tiredness washes over you and thankfully after a few more minutes of deep fucking you feel the shudder of Desmond’s body behind you. He covers your back with his body, chest pressed tight against you as he offers warm kisses against the back of your neck and down your spine.

He withdraws, pulling away from you and you collapse happily onto the bed, rolling over to see him carefully peel the condom off and wrap it in its sheath, discarding it onto the bedside table.

Desmond joins you, sprawling beside you on the bed, his chest heaving as he catches his breath. Tucking and arm around you, he pulls you close to cradle against his check, kissing the top of your head as you snuggle against him. Something digs against your side and you fumble around to find the forgotten vibrator. Switching it off, you toss it back on the floor with all the other items from your bedside table.

‘Well that was better than your cocktail.’ You joke after a few moments of catching your breath and basking in the blissful afterglow of some amazing sex.

‘Hey, don’t get ahead of yourself.’ He quips. ‘You haven’t tried all of my cocktails yet.’

Sated and satisfied, you both doze comfortably in each other’s arms in the dim lamp light of the room, his fingers gently stroking down your arm.

‘What are we doing next Valentine’s Day?’ You tease, hopefully, checking that he hadn’t fallen asleep and wondering just if the pair of you will still be together come then. You hope so.

With a small grin Desmond carefully rolls on top of you, plucking one of the condoms from the discarded spare pile on top of the dresser.

‘Hopefully not on the same packet of these.’ He jokes, instigating another round of passionate lovemaking with a deep, insistent kiss.

 


End file.
